Fall is fallen. The red trees are red and not faking green. The yellow trees have slipped in overnight and tower above humans chastened by diminished daylight. It is not light at ten or nine or eight in the evening. It is not light at six in the morning. Our world is getting closed down.
Two more weeks of electoral insanity, to be followed probably by lawsuits and recounts and insults and assaults. I have friends who have lost half their imagined wealth in the space of a year or two. Our world is getting closed down.
So the screen gets darker at the top and darker at the bottom and the light in the middle seems wider, perhaps. Maybe that’s why ceremonies get more complex in Winter. The light side of the year is all wacky fun and the dark side is severely ceremonial. The dark is narrower and wider. You have to stand back, all the way behind the last row of seats, leaning against the back wall, watching the little figures in the light and listening for their words. It all means something, no doubt. We await the reviews, the steam geysering out from the vents, the newsies dodging the delivered bundles, the playwright ripping open the edition to find the page. It’s two in the morning and the reviews can’t be good. The damn thing tanked in the third act. People were slipping out the doors, giggling, right past the playwright still leaning against the back wall, no longer taking notes. There was a stab at spirited applause, but it fell short and actors were left at the last call ducking their way back under a falling curtain to the silence of people standing up and looking for the exits.
Or, there could be a Democratic victory and both houses of Congress and the battered but now powerful Executive Branch could line up and force the McCaniacs and Bushmen and Palindromes back into their huts for a moment while the foolish, well-meaning and left-leaning leftouts try to figure out what to do. You wonder at the Obama Dilemma.
Cheneybush have so returned secret power to the presidency that The Kid would have to think once or twice about relinquishing what they’ve left him.
Faust for President.